


Icing

by yeaka



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Silly, Vignette, WTF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-20
Updated: 2014-01-20
Packaged: 2018-01-09 09:42:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1144472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sugar-filled oddness occurs between missions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Icing

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I don’t even...
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Star Trek or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

“And everyone already knows, anyway,” Jim adds as they step off the turbolift, halting when Spock halts first, back stiff. “Well, they do,” Jim insists. “It’s hard to live day and night on a close-knit ship as basically space husbands and not have anyone notice.”

Spock lifts an eyebrow, tight lips in a frown. He doesn’t bother to point out that they aren’t ‘space husbands,’ probably because they’ve had that argument a thousand times, and Jim’s explained that, by the unwritten rules of space, yes, they are. Instead, Spock smoothly tells him before walking onwards, “Whether that is true or not, it makes formally exposing our questionable relationship no less inappropriate.”

Jim snorts as he hurries to follow, questioning, “Questionable?”

As they turn the corner, Jim tries the new tactic of, “And I’m not saying we have a formal announcement, just that maybe you could be a little less rigid in public. I know the whole thing’s silly to you, but it wouldn’t hurt you to indulge in a little silliness for my sake. You know it would mean a lot to m—” But he cuts off mid-sentence, eyes and face shifting to the side before his feet figure out to stop.

He backtracks a few steps, blinks at the blushing ensign behind the lightweight metal table, and asks, “Chekov, what are you doing?”

Chekov snaps immediately to attention, though a moment ago he was clearly trying to shrink into the background in the hopes of not being seen. The table before him is waist-high and filled with plates of (no doubt synthesized) baked goods. Jim’s eyes are drawn to a particular tray of cupcakes iced thickly in pink. 

Chekov mumbles, “Hawing, ah... hawing a bake sale, Sir.”

“A bake sale.” Jim repeats it utterly flatly. When Chekov merely turns pinker and tries to look away, Jim slowly prods, “...You’re having a bake sale in the halls of my ship because...?”

“D-Dr. McCoy suggested we, uh... zhat we did not hawe all zhe equipment aboard necessary, so zhat I should... erm... raise credits via... well...” He gestures lamely at the table. 

Another ensign stops behind them, tugging Hendorff over by the sleeve, and she chirps first, “G’morning, Captain,” then, “How much for one of the Rigelian cinnamon pastries?” (Jim maturely refrains from suggesting Cupcake have a cupcake.)

Chekov tells her numbly, “Six credits,” and he slides forward a PADD that Hendorff punches into. The ensign takes the pastry she bought, nods to Jim and Spock, and wanders off as though absolutely nothing is out of the ordinary.

Jim asks, because it’s the only explanation, “Was Bones into the bourbon when he asked this?”

Chekov corrects, “Scotch, I zhink. Wizh... well, wizh Meester Scott. And he ordered me.”

Scotch. They were down in Scotty’s territory, then. The first time Bones complained about Jim spending too much time with Spock and not enough time with him, Jim had assumed his best friend was joking. Apparently, Jim’s now been replaced, and that’s proven to be not at all a good thing. Lifting a hand to rub his temple, Jim grumbles, “And you listened to their hair-brained ideas anyway, even though they were drunk?”

“W... well...” Chekov mumbles. The poor thing looks like he’s going to faint beneath the table at any moment. “Zhey are a much higher rank zhan me...”

Jim doesn’t even know what to say to that. “Chekov...”

“How much is a single Earth cupcake?”

Jim and Chekov both look over at Spock, who peers back at Chekov, perfectly serious.

Gaping, Chekov squeaks, “Fiwe credits?” 

Nodding, Spock reaches for the PADD and types in his code, relinquishing the price. Then he promptly stands up tall again, arms folded behind his back, and he announces, “Ensign Chekov, I am purchasing one Earth cupcake for my...” He looks at Jim, pauses, then somehow manages to deliver in an entirely solemn tone, “space husband.”

Jim instantly bites his lip, because it’s the only way to stifle the immediate on slaughter of laughter. His grin reaches so wide that it crinkles his eyes, and he’s genuinely concerned that it might split his face in two. When he glances aside, Spock looks at him back, eyes clearly asking, ‘are you happy now?’ And Jim really, really is.

Jim reaches out and takes the cupcake Chekov offers him. He doesn’t even have to clarify that said space husband is himself, and he’s sure Spock notes that as much as he does. 

Glowing too bright to disrupt the other silliness on this wonderful ship, Jim tells Chekov, “Carry on, Ensign.” Chekov nods and seems to release a long-held-in breath, deflating with relief.

Jim grabs Spock’s hand and sets them back to walking, while he takes a bite of synthetic, saccharine love. It’s a little dry but otherwise _wonderful_. When he lectured Spock, that isn’t quite what he meant, nor did he think anything like that would ever, ever happen. Somehow, it makes the cupcake sweeter. Inappropriate indeed; he’s gone from captain to mush. 

As soon as they pass a deserted corridor, Jim ducks into it to press the remaining half to Spock’s mouth, holding it while Spock obediently leans forward to bite. Vulcans don’t eat with their hands, after all. 

When Spock pulls back, Jim dives forward to lick the faint traces of icing off Spock’s bow lips. He resists the urge to gloat over the benefits of silliness. 

They eat the rest of the cupcake and lap up all the evidence before they detour down to Engineering, where two other officers aren’t going to be nearly as lucky as Spock’s going to be tonight.


End file.
